


When I Wake

by Plucky_Brit



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Confusion, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, POV Simmons, Team, although Fitz and Simmons are together, because i miss hunter and bobbi, fitz loves jemma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plucky_Brit/pseuds/Plucky_Brit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m right here, Jemma. I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be okay.” </p><p>Jemma didn’t know what he was talking about. She was looking into his face, his perfect face, and hearing his panicked words. She could see tears in his eyes. Why was he crying? What had happened? Had the blast hurt someone on the team? She reached up to wipe away his tears, words of comfort ready on her lips, but before she could reach his face she felt another hand forcing hers down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot express how happy I am with last night's episode. I literally have not stopped grinning all day, so naturally, here is some angst to balance the mood. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, reviews are very much appreciated :)

“I’m right here, Jemma. I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be okay.” 

Jemma didn’t know what he was talking about. She was looking into his face, his perfect face, and hearing his panicked words. She could see tears in his eyes. Why was he crying? What had happened? Had the blast hurt someone on the team? She reached up to wipe away his tears, words of comfort ready on her lips, but before she could reach his face she felt another hand forcing hers down.

“Don’t move Jem, let us do the work, okay?” Another voice said, and Jemma turned her head slowly to see Bobbi at her other side. “Just stay with us. That’s all you need to do.” Bobbi looked like she was about to cry, too.

Jemma felt a pang of worry. If someone was hurt then she should be helping. That was what she was good at, why she was here. Her eyes felt heavy, though. It would be so easy to have a quick nap before helping. Then she would be refreshed and it would be so much easier to push away the nagging pounding in her head. She let her eyes drift shut.

“No, Jemma, please.” Fitz’s voice immediately washed over, forcing her to open her eyes again, shocked at the emotion in his voice. “Stay awake, please stay awake.” He begged. 

She gave him a small nod. It didn’t hurt her head too much to do that. If he was so desperate for her to stay awake then people really must need her help, she realized suddenly, and so she decided to push herself upright, using her elbows to lever herself. It was harder than it should have been, she thought dimly, before she felt forceful hands on her shoulders, undoing all her hard work and forcing her onto her back once more. She looked up reproachfully, ready to snap angrily at whoever had done it, only to meet the eyes of her boss. She couldn’t snap at him. 

“Lie still, Simmons. That’s all you need to do. We’ll do the rest.” Coulson said gently. 

“I can help.” She said, but her voice sounded funny, all distant and slurred. She tried again. “I’m okay, sir.” She muttered, trying to take the worry off his face. Her voice still sounded odd though.

“I can’t stop the bleeding.” Bobbi’s quiet voice said, and again Jemma tried to sit up, growing more anxious now. If someone was bleeding then she really should be there, doing stiches at the very least. 

“Jem, please. Don’t move, you’re making it worse.” Fitz’s said again, as Coulson pressed once more against her shoulders, forcing her back down. 

“Fitz.” She whispered, unable to think of anything else. She was annoyed at him. He knew she hated to be helpless, especially when someone was hurt. Why wasn’t he letting her help? He pressed his face close to hers, and she felt his soft lips brush her forehead. It felt nice, warm. She really was starting to feel very cold. 

“I’m right here, Jem. I’ve got you.” He murmured, tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks. She was so confused. Why wouldn’t anyone tell her who was hurt? Even if they didn’t let her get up, she could still talk Bobbi through what to do. 

“Where’s Lincoln?” Bobbi’s desperate voice said. “I need his help, I don’t know how to fix this.” She half sobbed.

“They’re coming. The blast blocked the passage but Daisy’s cleared it. They’ll be here any second.” That was Coulson again, his authoritative tone strangely calming. Sure enough, seconds later and Jemma heard rushed footfalls and heavy breathing, like whoever had just arrived had been running. 

“Talk to me, Bobbi.” Lincoln said quickly, still breathing deeply.

“She took the full brunt of the explosion, Lincoln. There was shrapnel everywhere, something caught her in the abdomen.” Bobbi said softly. “I can’t stop the bleeding. I don’t know where to begin.” 

Jemma tore her eyes off of Fitz’s, the effort it took to turn her head surprising her. She looked instead at Bobbi, watching through blurry eyes as tears began to fall down Bobbi’s cheeks too.

“Hey, hold it together. You’ve done good so far, okay?” Lincoln said comfortingly, and Jemma was glad he’d said it. She didn’t like to see anyone upset. Fitz was upset too, she suddenly remembered, her eyes finding his once more as she saw the tears continue to spill. How had she forgotten that?

“Don’t cry.” She whispered to him, raising a heavy arm to wipe the tears away. This time no one forced her hand down, and she was able to brush his cheek softly. To her surprise she left a streak of red behind as he reached up and took her hand, holding it tightly as she brought her arm back down, her energy failing her. There was a sob behind her, a small tight cry that tugged at Jemma’s heart. She recognised its source. Daisy was clearly upset, too. What had happened, she thought desperately, to make everyone so upset? 

“Stay strong, Daisy.” That firm voice was familiar too. Well, at least May was holding it together. 

“Where are the others? Is everyone alright?” That was Coulson again, Jemma realized. She heard the worry in his voice and held her breath desperately waiting for a reply, praying that no one had been hurt.

“Everyone’s okay. Mack’s prepping medical and Hunter went to get a gurney. He’ll be here any minute now.” May said, her voice cool and controlled. 

Jemma felt herself deflate with relief. Everyone was okay. The people she loved were safe. She could relax, finally. She relaxed her grip on Fitz’s hand, letting her eyes drift shut again. Instantly his hold on her hand tightened. She muttered, annoyed. Why wouldn’t he just let her have a quick nap? She was beginning to feel truly awful.

“Jem, don’t do this, please. Just stay awake, that’s all you have to do.” She heard him beg, although his voice was beginning to grow distant. Everything was quieter now, the frantic voices calling around the room were muffled in her ears, like she was listening to them through water. She wanted to do as he asked, she would do anything to make him happy, but she was so, so tired, and she was so close to sleep. She’d apologise when she woke. He would understand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma wakes from surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely reviews, they are very much appreciated and I hope you enjoy the next instalment.

Jemma was cold. Freezing, in fact, she realised as the awareness of her frigidity pulled her from her sleep. That annoyed her. She hated waking before she had to, and her alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. Reluctant to open her eyes she reached out, trying to feel for the blanket that she must have kicked off in the night. Rather than the soft cotton she was expecting, her hand collided with something rather a lot harder.

“Ouch.” A familiar voice muttered, before: ‘”Jemma? Oh shit, Jem, can you hear me?” 

She frowned to herself, thinking quickly. Why on earth would Fitz be in her room? Had she overslept? Finally accepting that she wasn’t going to go back to sleep now she cracked open her eyes, wincing at the harsh light. That was odd. Surely she hadn’t fallen asleep with the light on? 

“Fitz?” She said, although her throat felt raw and the word didn’t come out right, sounding more like a groan than a name. Eugh, maybe she was coming down with something. Fitz clearly noticed too, because his face clouded over.

“Shh, don’t talk.” He said immediately. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?” He babbled. She smiled weakly, touched at his concern.

She ignored his question, instead asking the question that had been nagging at her since she woke. “Why… why are you here?” She croaked, each word feeling like knives against her throat. She could really do with a drink. Fitz seemed to think so too, because next thing she knew he was pressing a straw to her lips and she was sucking down the liquid without even thinking how odd all of this was.

“Lincoln said you had some smoke inhalation, so your throat may be a bit sore.” He said gently. Now she was very confused. When had there been smoke? Had there been a fire whilst she slept? Turning her head slightly, looking for her phone on her bedside table, she was startled to find that there was no table there. Instead she saw a bank of monitors that she recognised from medical.

“What the…?” she muttered, her heart beginning to pound, as she looked around realising that she was indeed in the medical bay. She shook her head, confused, reaching forwards to get out of this bed and go back to where she should be. As she moved, bringing her arm forwards, she felt a sharp sting, looking down to see a drip emerging from her wrist. Frightened now, she jerked upright, and instantly her body exploded into a wave of pain. She gasped, unable to breathe at the agony, each desperate breath bringing with it fresh waves of hurt. Dimly, she was aware of Fitz beside her, his warm hands pressed to her shoulders, forcing her back to the bed, pressing a mask over her face and forcing her to take deep, calm breaths. She clutched at his arms, gripping tightly to him as panic threatened to overwhelm her. 

“Jem, it’s okay. I’ve got you, just relax, deep breaths with me, come on.” He said gently, and finally she found herself sinking back into the pillows, sucking great lungfuls of pure oxygen from the mask over her face. The pain continued to ripple through her, less sharp but just as constant. It was all she could think about as she cast her mind back, desperately trying to work out what had happened. Before she could ask, however, the door swung open and Bobbi appeared, looking tired.

“What happened?” She said breathlessly, looking from her face to Fitz’s. “The alarm went off.” She said, walking up to Jemma and looking at her closely. 

“It’s okay, Bobbi Fitz said softly. “She was just a little disorientated. I think she needs some more pain meds, though.” They were talking as if Jemma wasn’t there listening, and Jemma felt a small stab of annoyance. 

“What…” She began again, but before she could finish her sentence she felt her chest constrict again as she began to cough, each painful breath making her cough harder. Instantly she felt Bobbi’s strong hands behind her, easing her upright and holding her carefully as her whole body rattled with each cough and the pain exploded once more from her abdomen. 

“Deep breaths Jemma.” Fitz told her once more, and desperately she tried to do as he said, focusing on his sad eyes and clutching onto his arms again. “You’ve got this.” He whispered, but she didn’t have this. She couldn’t breathe, and her chest was hurting so badly she thought her heart might have been torn from her body, and there was no oxygen to be had. The mask over her face wasn’t helping any more: it was smothering her, and desperately she reached up and ripped it off, pulling it from her face. Instantly Bobbi grabbed her hand, pushing it away and placing the mask over her mouth once again. Jemma whimpered as she felt its constricting press, clawing desperately at her face before Fitz grabbed her hands, holding them tightly and not letting her move. They didn’t understand! It was suffocating her, sucking oxygen from her lungs and her whole body was thrumming with pain, each beat of her heart sending it pounding from her toes to head, threatening to split her open. Her vision was blurring, black dots flashing threateningly in front of her eyes, and each heaving breath was taking more and more effort, draining her. She sagged down into Bobbi’s arms, unable to hold herself up any more, the world around her fading once more.

…………….

The next time she woke there were several people in the room. They were talking quietly, and she let their conversation wash over her. It was, she realised, Fitz and Daisy, and she lay there peacefully, calm in the presence of her friends.

“…had to be sedated.” Fitz said.

“Oh, Fitz. Give her time. Bobbi said that she was having a panic attack.”

“She couldn’t breathe, Daisy. It was awful, there was nothing I could do.” Jemma heard a soft rustle, like Daisy had moved to hug Fitz. They were talking about her, she realised with a pang. She had a vague recollection of said panic attack, with the air being pulled from her lungs and pain exploding throughout her body. She could still feel pain now, but it was more like the ache from a hard day’s exercise than the excruciating agony that she remembered to vividly. Taking a deep breath, gasping slightly as the exaggerated movement sent an unexpected twinge to her abdomen, she cracked open her eyes.

Fitz and Daisy must have heard the change in her breathing, because they were both looking at her closely. Daisy gave a wide smile, and Fitz’s brow furrowed with concern as he instantly stepped up to the bed.

“Hey, Jem.” He said softly, and she felt his hand snake around her own, giving it a light squeeze. She squeezed back and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. She must have done the right thing. “How are you doing?” 

Jemma licked her dry lips before replying. “I don’t remember…” She whispered, breaking off at the sharp ache in her throat that had flared up again as she tried to talk. Frustrated, she felt hot tears well in her eyes. She was so confused, so disorientated. All she wanted to do was find out what had happened to her, and she couldn’t even string a sentence together. She could see Fitz’s eyes widen with worry again, and felt guilt well in her stomach. She didn’t want to upset him: he’d done so much for her and here she was hurting him again. 

The tears brimming in her eyes spilled over as Daisy backed from the room, muttering something about Bobbi and Lincoln. Instantly Fitz reached up, his soft hands taking her face in his and wiping away her tears.

“You don’t remember what happened?” He asked slowly. She shook her head carefully, reluctant to move too much and repeat her last excursion into consciousness. “That’s okay. You’ve got a small concussion so Bobbi said this might happen. There was an explosion, in the hangar.” He added, and she felt her heart begin to pound again. Was anyone else hurt? She still hadn’t seen most of the team. Even now they could be lying metres from her, fighting their own injuries. She shuddered at the thought.

“Is everyone okay?” She croaked quickly, ignoring the ache in her throat.

He gave a small chuckle, and the familiar sound sent warmth right through her. “They’re all fine. Trust you to panic about the others whilst you’re the one in the hospital bed.” He pulled away from her, and she reached out without thinking, catching onto the bottom of his shirt as he turned away. Instantly he spun back around, taking her hand tenderly. 

“Don’t go.” She whispered, her heart thudding at the thought of being left alone. He gave her a smile that calmed her instantly.

“I’m just getting you some water, Jem. Bobbi will be here in a second and she’ll want to ask questions. No offence but you sound like a sixty year old male smoker right now.” He chuckled again, and she couldn’t help but smile at the lightness that had slowly filled his face.

True to his word, Bobbi arrived not long after, entering the medical pod and offering Jemma a beaming smile. “Simmons. You’re looking much healthier.” She said quickly, before crossing the room and beginning to poke and prod at her. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” She said gently. Jemma nodded, although her whole body was already aching slightly. She felt Fitz’s grip tighten on her hand when she gasped as Bobbi’s steady hands pressed onto her abdomen and a spike of pain flashed through her, her vision going white. 

“That hurts.” She croaked. Bobbi gave her a sympathetic look.

“Sorry. I’ll up your meds for now, but I have to check for infection. You’re going to be tender for a while yet. We had to operate to remove shrapnel, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of recovery times for that kind of surgery.” Bobbi said as she finished changing the bandage. She looked into Jemma’s face. “You really scared me Simmons. Please don’t go doing this ever again.” She said softly, and Jemma saw the exhaustion painted across Bobbi’s face, the hunch in her shoulders like she'd been weighed down by the world.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and instantly Bobbi’s face changed, looking almost guilty. She saw Fitz shoot Bobbi an angry look. Why would he be annoyed at Bobbi?

“No, Simmons, please don’t start doing your British apologies. What happened wasn’t your fault. If anything it was mine… I should have stopped that guy.” Before Jemma could protest, Fitz spoke up, chuckling dryly, his annoyance, which Jemma now realised was because he thought Bobbi had upset her, immediately dissipating.

“Come on Bobbi. No one’s to blame. Well, except for that psychopath. But you certainly aren’t. I mean, he could combust objects spontaneously just by touching them. It would take more than you to take him down.” He said gently, and Jemma was pleased to see Bobbi give him a smile. 

“Listen, Simmons.” Bobbi said, turning back to Jemma. “Me or Lincoln will be back in a bit to check on you, but right now the most important thing is that you get some rest, okay? Sleep as much as you want.” She said firmly. Jemma gave her a small smile that seemed to satisfy her colleague, and Bobbi left the room looking lighter than she had when she entered.

“The others all want to come see you.” Fitz told her, still holding tight to her hand. She liked the way he was hovering around her. “But I’ve told them to give you some time. Do you want to see anyone yet or…” He tailed off, clearly letting her decide.

“Not yet.” She croaked quickly. The short conversation had already exhausted her, and she was ready to drift off again, safe in the knowledge that Fitz was there. She hated feeling this weak, too. She wanted to see the others badly, but she couldn’t bring herself to face them yet, not when she felt this vulnerable. It was silly, she knew. They were her friends, they were the ones who’d always protected her, but right now the thought of the room filling with people, all pressing close to her, was a little too much to face.

Fitz must have seen the turmoil in her face because he quickly nodded. “That’s okay, Jem. I understand.” He said, leaning back into the chair. “You look knackered, Bob was right, don’t feel you have to stay awake to entertain me.” He added kindly. Jemma knew he was right, the fact that her eyelids were drooping of their own accord was a testament to that, but when he made to pull his hand away so that she could relax, she couldn’t bring herself to let go. “What is it?” He asked her softly.

“Come here.” She murmured. He gave her a questioning look and she patted the space next to her in the bed.

“Jemma, you’ve just had surgery. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He didn’t understand. She needed to feel him: to have him wrap her arms around her, make her feel safe. She hated how pathetic she felt, lying useless in the cold hospital bed and feeling ridiculously vulnerable for reasons she couldn’t even explain. She didn’t care about the constant ache in her abdomen or the way the lights were hurting her head. She’d feel this crap for the rest of her life if it meant Fitz could be by her side. “Please.” She whispered, her voice cracking a little. Instantly he stood, cradling her head in his hands.

“I’ll hurt you.” He said again, desperately. Jemma felt the tears that she had only just pushed away brimming to the surface again. “Jem, calm down. I’m sorry, I… I’ll try, okay, but if I hurt you at all I’m going back to the chair.” He said firmly.

Ever so tenderly he slid onto the bed beside her, his tender arm curling around her, squeezing gently. She melted into his touch, his warmth radiating into her cold skin as he settled beside her. 

“Is this okay?” He asked hesitantly, and in response she rested her head against his chest, relaxing into his hold. She could feel the soft beat of his heart, a steady rhythm beneath her head. She felt him lean down, his soft lips brushing against her forehead and sending warmth rushing through her. tightening her hand into his shirt, holding him tightly, she finally let her eyes slip closed, the steady beat of his heart a quiet lullaby in the still room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be from Fitz's perspective, with a little bit more information on what actually happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz's perspective on Jemma's recovery. Lots of fluff :)

_It was too late when they realised that the inhuman had escaped. It was too late to lockdown the base, too late for everyone to get away. Their efforts to stop him were futile, the power radiating from his hands destroying their every effort. He and Jemma had been in the hangar when the alarms had gone off. He should have made her leave. But Bobbi was there, and Coulson, and at that point they didn’t even know why the alarms were blaring. They weren’t ignorant for long. At the first blast they knew. His eyes had locked with Jemma’s, seen a flicker of fear cross her face._

_“FitzSimmons, get to my office.” Coulson had yelled, one arm reaching for Fitz, ready to drag them away. He’d been too late. The blast had ricocheted through the hangar, an entire jet disintegrating before their eyes and Jemma had been standing right there, and his ears were ringing and his eyes were watering as he blinked away the dust and smoke that now filled the air, and he couldn’t see her anywhere._

_“JEMMA” He screamed, his throat raw from sucking in the toxic fumes. His ears were ringing loudly, and he could see Coulson standing in front of him, his lips moving but no sounds coming out. “JEMMA” He yelled again, but he couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t even hear his own desperate shouts. Coulson had grabbed his shoulder, and Fitz saw his mouth moving in the same pattern, saying the same thing over and over but Fitz couldn’t hear, until suddenly something *popped* and the sound came rushing back in all at once. He could hear the crackle of a flame, the creak of settling debris, and someone shouting wildly._

_“Fitz. Stop. Calm down.” His boss’s words trickled into his mind, and the panicked shouts he had heard stopped abruptly. It was, he realised with a start, his own cries that he had been hearing._

_“Jemma.” He croaked again, looking desperately at Coulson before pulling out of his grip and running to the spot where she had last stood. The ground was treacherous with debris, mangled components from the jet mixed with large chunks of the hangar roof. He couldn’t see her anywhere. “Jemma.” He called again, her name spilling from his lips, over and over._

_“Fitz.” He spun around at the sound of his name, ready to run to her. His heart stopped. Instead of Jemma he saw Bobbi, kneeling by the wall and coated in a thick layer of dust. Blood tricked from a cut on her forehead. “Fitz.” She said again, and this time he heard the desperation in her voice. He could make out something at her knees, and she was pressing hard onto it, her hands coated with something red._

_“No.” He croaked, unable to move, his mind frozen in horror as he finally connected the dots, realised that it was Jemma who was lying lifeless, Jemma’s blood that coated Bobbi’s hands. Bobbi was looking straight at him, her fear radiating from her, and something suddenly cut through to Fitz’s shocked mind. Without thinking he began to run, stumbling and slipping on the debris that coated the floor between him and Jemma._

_When he reached her he threw himself down beside her head, trembling hands smoothing over her soft hair. He tried not to look at what Bobbi was doing, desperately tried to focus on nothing but her face. He could hear Coulson talking rapidly to someone on the comms, but the words washed over his head. He could comprehend nothing but Jemma, the woman he loved, and her lifeless body. Unwilling but unable to stop himself, his eyes slid down her torso to where Bobbi was desperately applying pressure. He shuddered when he saw the mess her stomach was in, her shirt partially torn to reveal the large incision that was bleeding at a terrifying rate. He grabbed her hand, unthinkingly, and then almost dropped it again when he felt it tighten around his._

_“Jemma?” He gasped, his eyes snapping back to her face, his heart pounding as he realised that her brown eyes were meeting his._

_“I’m right here, Jemma. I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be okay.”_

“Fitz.” Her voice jerked him awake, his eyes snapping open, pulling him away from his dream. He could feel her hand tracing patterns on his chest. “Are you okay?” She asked him quietly, and he realised guiltily that he must have woken her.

“Sorry, Jemma. I didn’t mean to wake you. I told you that sleeping in your bed was a bad idea.” He said, looking down at her and seeing her brown eyes filled with concern. “I’m alright. How are you?” He asked quickly, noting the dark shadows that still hung around her eyes, and her too pale skin. Even though it had been six days since surgery, and one day since Jemma had moved back into her room at the base, the healing process had been slow and Fitz knew that she was starting to get frustrated.

“I’m fine.” She said, although she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Fitz sighed. Why couldn’t she just be honest with him?

“Jemma.” He said sternly, and he was pleased to see her look a little guilty.

“I’m just ready to do something, you know, go back to the lab, make dinner, anything but move from chair to bed to chair over and over again. I feel so useless.” He could see her frustration and nodded sympathetically.

“I know.” He said softly, pulling himself up onto his elbows and settling against the headboard. She mimicked his movements, moving a little more gingerly as she sat up, leaning against his chest. He helped her gently, using his hands to stop her putting to much strain on her stomach and from the way she didn’t protest he knew she was still aching. “Have you had your meds this morning?” He asked.

He felt her shuffle uncomfortably in his arms. “I want to stop taking them, Fitz.”

He felt the frustration grow in him again. They’d been having this argument for the last two days, after he’d woken to find Jemma shaking from the pain after skipping her evening’s medication. “Jemma – “ he began, but she interrupted him before he could finish.

“No, Fitz. You don’t understand. They make me feel… not here.” She said helplessly. He looked at her confused and she took a shaky breath. “Everything feels foggy, Fitz, and I can’t control my thoughts. Everything just seems to spiral, and my head turns in a hundred different directions and with these drugs I can’t switch it off.” She said softly. He had to admit he knew what that was like. When he was younger, he’d sometimes thought he was going mad as his mind spun at a hundred miles an hour, so desperate to cram in information and work out puzzles that he could hardly string a sentence together, his brain working so fast that his mouth couldn’t hope to keep up. As he grew older he’d learned to control it, and he was well aware that Jemma had struggled similarly when she was young.

“How about I talk to Bobbi, see if we can try anything else?” He suggested, and she huffed at him, pulling away from his touch and slowly sliding her legs over the edge of the bed.

“It won’t help Fitz. Whatever I take screws with my head. It numbs everything, takes away my control.” She said angrily, stomping to the wardrobe and pulling on clothes, before storming from the room, letting the door slam behind her.

He stayed where he was for a minute, knowing he should go after her but trying to work out what to say when he caught up. He knew she was stubborn, and he understood why she was so desperate to get off the drugs, him more than anyone would understand. The way their brains were wired and the manic way they saw the world, where everything was a question, everything a puzzle, could be overwhelming at the best of times. They had developed their ways of dealing with it, but the meds had clearly messed with Jemma’s coping mechanisms. He knew he would want the same in her place, but surely the other option was just as awful? He felt a stab to his gut every time he saw her wince, every time he looked at her pale face. He couldn’t bear to let her hurt any more than she already had, and if there was some way to stop that then he was damn well going to make sure she took it.

Sighing, he swung himself out of the bed, pulling on the same clothes that he had worn the day before. He picked up the small pill bottle that sat on the bedside table, tucking it into his pocket before following Jemma out of the room.

His first stop was Bobbi, who he found swinging punches at Hunter in the gym. She stopped when she saw him, and Hunter gave him a relieved smile as he wiped himself down with a towel.

“Hey mate, everything okay?” Hunter asked as he walked over to him, clapping a sweaty hand onto his back. Fitz gave him a filthy look and Hunter laughed.

“It’s fine, I just wanted to talk to Bobbi about Jemma.” He told his friend, and Bobbi quickly joined them.

“Is she okay?” She asked immediately. Fitz sighed.

“It’s the pain meds again. She’s refusing to take them.” He told them, and he saw Bobbi and Hunter exchange a look. “What?” He asked.

“I can’t force her to take them, Fitz. Obviously I’d highly recommend it, but as long as it’s not doing her any damage she perfectly within her rights to refuse them” Bobbi said gently.

“Isn’t there something else you can give her? Something that doesn’t mess with her head?” He asked desperately.

“Is that what the problem is? I can offer her something less strong, but it won’t work as well.”

He sighed. “I just hate seeing her in pain.” He saw sympathy in Hunter’s face.

“Listen mate, I know it sucks, but she can take it, and if its what she wants and she’s not going to change her mind then the best thing you can do is support her.”

………………….

He found Jemma in the lab, where she was leaning against the counter and looking rather shaky. Without thinking he sidled up to her, resting a hand on her back. She flinched at the unexpected contact, her head spinning round to see who had snuck up on her, and he backed away quickly apologising profusely. Jemma had been a little twitchy since the explosion, and he kept on forgetting to restrain himself when he was so used to being close to her.

“It’s okay, Fitz.” She said softly, and Fitz noticed with some alarm that she was gripping tightly to the counter, using it to hold herself up. Now that she knew he was there he didn’t worry about alarming her, wrapping one arm around her. Instantly she sank into his hold, and he felt the way she relied on him to carry most of his weight.

“Jemma, what’s wrong?” He asked, unable to keep the worry from slipping into his voice as she rested her head against his chest.

“I think I overdid it.” She mumbled, and quickly he looked around the lab, trying to work out what she was even doing here. Coulson had expressly banned her from entering until Bobbi deemed her fit. He saw her neat handwriting across a page of equations and quickly put it together.

“Were you trying to make your own drugs?” He asked, amazed, as he slowly guided her out of the lab, half carrying her.

‘I’ve done it before.” She muttered. “I just wanted to reduce the side effects. I can handle the pain but… I’d rather not.” She admitted, trying to pull away from Fitz’s hold as they reached the common room.

Fitz knew what she was doing. She could see May working at the table in the common room and she was trying to look stronger than she felt, trying to convince the others she was fine to stop them worrying. It made him proud to know how tough she could be, but he wished she was more willing to accept help. Resting a hand on her hip, just enough for her to know that he was there should she need him, he guided her over to the sofa.

“Morning.” Said May, looking up from her work and giving Jemma an uncharacteristic smile. Jemma returned the greeting.

“I’m just going to make us some tea, May, do you want some?” Asked Fitz as he switched on the kettle.

“Sure.” She said, before turning back to Jemma. “How are you doing?” She asked her, looking closely at her face. Fitz smiled to himself. Jemma was going to try and put on a brave face, and May was going to see right through it. He listened closely to their conversation as he made the tea.

“I’m okay. A little tender still.” Jemma replied.

“How are you sleeping?”

Fitz could picture Jemma’s face right now. She would be shuffling uncomfortably, looking at May’s ear rather than her eyes in an effort to avoid the truth.

“Oh, you know, not too badly.” She mumbled.

“Simmons.” May growled. “Don’t even try lying to me. I can tell when Romanov is lying, I can assure you that you are a hell of a lot easier to read.”

Jemma let out a deep sigh. “It’s fine, May. I don’t need much sleep anyway.”

“You do when you’re healing.” May said sternly.

“It’s the medication.” Jemma admitted. “It messes with my head. Can’t focus when I’m awake and can’t stop focusing when I’m asleep.”

“Dreams?” asked May. Fitz stopped stirring the milk into the tea, waiting for Jemma’s answer. He’d thought she might be having nightmares, but she’d always denied it and he didn’t want to push – she hadn’t taken it well the few times he’d asked.

“Yeah.” Jemma said very quietly.

“Sometimes it’s good to talk.” May told her. “I know I’m hardly the person to be telling you this, but it’s true. And if you’re looking for someone to be impartial, I’m always here.” She said gently, and Fitz found his love for the stern agent grew even more.

“Thank you, agent May.” Jemma murmured. A small silence followed and Fitz decided this was the perfect moment to re-join them.

“Tea.” He said loudly, clattering the two mugs down onto the table, returning the smile Jemma gave him. He watched her wince as she reached forwards to take the mug, and he quickly dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out the pill bottle and placing it in front of her. “There’s no shame in it.” He said quietly, willing her to cave. She was looking wistfully at the small bottle.

“I know that, Fitz.” She chided him. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be working out my own formula.” She sighed heavily and his heart dropped. He knew she was going to refuse. “I’d just rather take this than have them messing with my head, for now at least. I’ll let you know if that changes.” He could tell by her tone that she wasn’t going to budge, and he looked at May helplessly.

“Simmons is a big girl, Fitz. She knows what she can handle.” May told her, and he huffed, annoyed.

“Why is no one taking my side?” He said, frowning even as Jemma cracked a smile.

“People have been taking my side for ten years Fitz. No reason they’d stop now.” She teased, and he didn’t have the heart to retaliate. Not when she was looking so pleased with herself. Although… he couldn’t let her get away with it entirely, otherwise she’d never stop. He raised his eyebrows ominously.

“You’re lucky you’re still injured, but just wait. I’ll get you back.” He chuckled, sinking into the sofa beside her.

May stood up, stretching. “I told Bobbi I’d go a few rounds with her after she sorted Hunter out. Thanks for the tea, Fitz.” She said, leaving them alone in the common room.

Jemma rested her head against his shoulder, sighing contently, her hands wrapped around the mug. “All we need are some chocolate Hob Nobs.” She said. He smiled.

“I think we need to blackmail Coulson into a supply run.”

“To England?” She asked, curiously.

“I think he’s owe you a pretty big favour. Think about it. We could stock up on everything. Yorkshire tea, Marmite, Hob Nobs, Cadburys.” He said longingly. Just talking about his old home favourites had his stomach rumbling.

“Honestly, Fitz. You’re so unhealthy. Although, I must admit I’d love some Dairy Milk.” She added guiltily and he chuckled.

“Marmite and tea isn’t unhealthy.” He said cheekily, and she gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “Ouch.” He yelped. “No fair, I can’t retaliate.”

“The way you drink tea it probably has more sugar in than a Hershey’s bar.” She said sternly. “And think of all the salt that’s in Marmite.” He sighed. She was never going to stop her mission to make him healthy. He decided to change the topic, twisting his head to look at her. She looked up at him, curious, and before she could say anything else he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, bringing his hands up to her hair. She groaned into his mouth, returning his kiss hungrily. He felt her hands brush against his stomach, cold on his bare skin. Finally he broke away, unable to stop the grin that spread across the face. He felt his face flush, and was sure Jemma could see the red blush fill his cheeks. He didn’t know what had come over him: making out like teenagers in the common room, where was their professionalism?

“About time.” Jemma whispered, her head resting once again on his shoulder, and he felt himself flush even more, if that was possible. She had a point though. Since she’d been hurt he’d been terrified to press her, unwilling to make her uncomfortable or hurt her further. The past week had seen nothing more than chaste kisses and caring hugs, with none of the passion that they’d been enjoying prior to the inhuman’s escape.

“I agree.” Hunter said. Fitz turned so fast he cricked his neck, and saw that the other Englishman was standing at the door of the common room, a smug grin growing on his face. “Although I have to say I never pegged you two for public affection, certainly not with that much… passion.” He smirked as Fitz spluttered uselessly.

Thankfully Jemma came to his rescue. “This was a private space, Hunter, until you decided to be all voyeuristic about it.” She reprimanded him, although Fitz could tell that she wasn’t really annoyed.

“Whatever.” Hunter chuckled, entering the room and slumping into the armchair beside them. “Just keep your hands to yourself whilst I’m here.” Then his face turned serious. “I meant it though. It’s about time. You guys deserve this.” Fitz almost couldn’t bear to break the news to Hunter, but he couldn’t resist; the man clearly thought he had just walked in on their first kiss.

“Thanks, mate. We thought so too. That’s what Jemma said when we got together a month ago.”

“A month?!” Hunter squeaked. “Bloody Hell. And you’ve kept this secret how?”

“We’re professionals.” Jemma said smugly. There was more too it though, Fitz could hear the melancholy behind her words. There’d been a lot going on over the past month. The latest development in the FitzSimmons saga was hardly on people’s minds as they’d tackled the might of Hive and his inhuman army. And then they’d recovered Daisy, and FitzSimmons’ glow from the consummation of their relationship had been passed off as happiness at the return of their friend. Even Fitz’s frantic despair when Jemma had been hurt was hardly surprising. If anything, it would have been strange if he hadn’t spent every second at her bedside.

“Listen, if you could maybe not tell Coulson… we haven’t worked out how to tell him just yet.” Fitz said quickly as he saw a familiar expression on Hunter’s face: Hunter was seconds from charging around the base, spilling the beans to everyone he saw. Hunter’s face fell.

“Fine. But this isn’t staying secret for long. And I’m totally telling Bobbi. She’s owes me big bucks.” He relented.

“You we’re betting on us?” Fitz said, his ears burning with embarrassment.

“You have no idea, Fitz. There’s been a pot running since before I even got here. People have been rooting for you two since forever.” Hunter said, still smiling. He stood up, clapping Fitz on the back with a blow that made him wince. “See you two lovebirds later.” He walked to the door before turning, “Your secret’s safe with me.” He said with an exaggerated wink, tapping his nose.

Jemma looked at Fitz as the door swung shut behind their teammate. “I’d say we’ve got about six hours before everyone in the base knows, now.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows. “Really, Jemma? It’s Hunter. He’s my friend.”

“Oh Fitz, I know he is but –“

“Six hours is generous. I’d put money on three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be back in Jemma's perspective, and also have a bit more drama :)


	4. Chapter 4

Unfortunately, work got in the way, just as it always did.

Ten minutes later and Fitz’s phone chimed loudly. Jemma sighed, pulling away from Fitz so that he could reach into his pocket and pull it out. His face changed suddenly when he read the message, his easy smile sliding off as his brow furrowed with concern. She felt her stomach tighten anxiously.

“What is it?” She asked quickly, unable to hold back her nerves. He looked back at her, a forced smile sliding back onto his face. Her worry grew. Why was he trying to hide something from her?

“It’s nothing, Coulson just wants to talk.” He didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke, though. She knew he was lying.

“Fitz.” She said firmly. “You’re a worse liar than I am.” To his credit, the fake grin slid off his face and he looked at her guiltily.

“I just didn’t want to worry you.” He said softly, and her heart swelled with love at his caring soul. “Coulson’s ordered us to the jet. Inhuman retrieval.” Her heart sank so fast she felt the blood drain from her face. He must have seen her dread, because his arms were instantly wrapped around her, calming her before she even began to panic. “It’s not him, Jemma.” He told her softly. For a moment she was confused, and then she realised that he thought she was afraid of the inhuman that had hurt her. He couldn’t be further from the truth, although the strength that the inhuman had displayed did have something to do with the terror that spiked whenever she thought of Fitz being sent into action. He was going into the unknown, again, and this time she wasn’t even going to be there to keep an eye on him.

Although, she realised quickly, … there was no reason she couldn’t just go along on the jet.

“Right then. We’d better get to the hangar. Do you need any equipment?” She said quickly. He looked at her, confused.

“You aren’t coming, Jem. You can hardly walk from the kitchen to the lab. You aren’t about to go into the field.” He spoke firmly as he untangled himself from her and stood up, still looking closely at her. Damn their stupid relationship. Could she not do anything without him realising what the plan was?

“I’ll go to the hangar with you, though.” She said gently, holding out a hand so that he could help her up from the sofa, trying and failing to ignore the sharp burst of pain that flared though her abdomen as he pulled her up. She’d talk to Coulson at the hangar. She didn’t need Fitz’s permission, after all.

He wrapped a firm arm around her shoulder and she melted into his touch gratefully, pushing away the nerves that were buzzing around her. Neither of them spoke as they walked to the hangar. She was desperately trying to work out her best approach… if she could just get onto the plane, she could sit the entire time they were in the field, run operations with Coulson. To be honest, it would probably be best for her to go with them, less chance of freaking out and all that. Less time separated from Fitz.

The hangar was still a mess, Jemma realised with a start. It was the first time she’d made the trek here since the inhuman’s escape. The centre of the room had been cleared, the undamaged jets lined up close together. The rest of the room still looked like a war zone, however. The roof was filled with gaping holes, through which the sun shone down, illuminating the usually dark corners and the mounds of debris that were coating the floor, the chunks of masonry that had been blown from the walls. She shuddered, and Fitz instantly tightened his grip. She ignored him, breathing deeply. She was being stupid. She didn’t even remember what happened, she shouldn’t be getting so hung up on it. Anyway, she was fine. Far worse had happened. She tightened her fists, letting her nails dig into her palms and focusing instead on the twinge that it caused.

“FitzSimmons.” Coulson said, and his loud voice snapped her from her ridiculous panic. She suddenly realised that Fitz was still wrapped around her. Quickly she pulled away from his warm touch, missing it instantly. But she could hardly afford to look weak if she was going to join them. “Fitz, get yourself set up on the jet. We’re going to need to heavy duty equipment; the inhuman is holed up pretty well.” Fitz nodded, pulling away from Jemma and walking up the ramp into the jet. Coulson turned back to his tablet, typing something with urgency until Jemma cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Excuse me, sir.” She said loudly, and he turned back around. He gave her a kind smile.

“Simmons. How can I help?” He asked.

She swallowed quickly, deliberating the best approach. “I was thinking that I coul… should come as well. Just on the jet, to help if anyone is hurt. I wouldn’t get in the way.” She said quickly, deciding to bite the bullet and just ask straight out. She held her breath as Coulson looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face. God, why did this have to be so hard?

“Simmons.” He said again, and although his voice was gentle, she could already hear the rejection in his voice. Her heart sunk. Didn’t he realise that she needed this? She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at the base, on her own, waiting uselessly for a phone call.

“Please, Sir.” She croaked, tears pricking at her eyes as she willed him to change his mind. She swallowed again, trying to force back the tears, kicking her useless body for making her seem so weak.

“Jemma.” He said, and the kindness in her voice was almost too much. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you come. It wouldn’t be fair to you, and it wouldn’t be fair to the team. Fitz isn’t going to focus on what he needs to do if he knows you’re there. I wouldn’t ask him to come if we didn’t need him, Jemma, and I can assure you he will be safe and with us at all times.”

“I can stay on the jet.” She pleaded, “I can help.” Why couldn’t he see how badly she needed this? The normality, the team, Fitz. All of it was what was holding her together. Without it, she’d crumble like sand.

“I’m sorry, Jemma. It’s not going to happen. You can hardly stand.” He told her, and she knew, ultimately, that he was right. What if something happened and they needed to run? She could hardly walk without something to lean on. And if something were to go wrong and she got in the way and someone got hurt… No. She couldn’t live with that sort of guilt. She let out a shaky breath.

“How long are you going to be gone for?” She asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

“Forty-eight hours max. It should be a routine extraction.” He said. Her stomach tightened once again. Forty-eight hours without him. That was a long time. She wanted to march onto that plane and drag him straight back to her room, where it was safe. “Hunter is staying, though. Minimal force needed for this one. Don’t want to come across too strong to this poor inhuman.” He added. Maybe he saw her reluctance to be alone, with just the nameless faces of the technicians and support team. The band on her chest loosened slightly. So she wouldn’t be entirely alone, even if the crass Englishman wouldn’t be her first choice of company. She nodded slowly, and Coulson gave her a weak smile, before turning away and walking up to the jet.

The whole team had gathered there, apart from Hunter who stood on the opposite side of the hangar, watching them from afar, just as she was. She couldn’t hear what they were saying from where she stood, so instead she waited impatiently until they broke up, everyone but Fitz heading straight into the jet. He jogged over to her, pushing his mop of curls out of his face and giving her a wide smile.

“We’re off.” He said softly. “Won’t be long. Back before you know it.” She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him for one final hug. He returned it, his hands digging into her shoulders as he squeezed her tenderly, cautious as always of her injury. “I’ll call when I can, okay?” He said, pulling away finally and bringing his hands up to cradle her face, wiping away a tear she did not even know had fallen.

“Be safe.” She croaked, her heart spilling out as she watched him walk away. God, she needed to get herself under control. She was never this emotional. It was ridiculous really; it was a simple retrieval, the kind he’d done a hundred times. Why was she getting so hung up on it now? Her eyes blurred with tears as the bay doors slid shut and the engines kicked into action, sending the lighter debris into the air and whipping around the room. Dust blew suddenly into her face, and she flinched, shutting her eyes and blinking rapidly to remove it.

When she opened them, the jet had gone.

The fact hit her like a punch, and those stupid tears that had been teasing her all morning finally won the battle, sliding silently down her cheeks. All of a sudden she felt exhausted, her abdomen aching terribly and her head beginning to pound. Taking a step backwards she was relieved to find the wall, firm and cool. She leant against it, pressing her palms flat against it, trying to use it to ground her, to straighten her out. It failed hopelessly. Holding back a sob she slid down, ignoring the way the movement pulled painfully at her stitches.

It was so stupid. Why was she feeling like this now? The past week she’d been so together, if you ignored her initial panic and confusion when she had first woken. Now here she was, crumbling like some pathetic school kid, crying about her boyfriend going away for a few days. She really needed to pull it together. She knew that. But it hurt. It hurt so badly, like she was tied to Fitz, a cable that stretched between them, thick and strong and totally un-flexible, and the further he was from her the worse the pain as the cable was stretched more and more, ripping her heart. Finally a sob hiccoughed from her, and she buried her face in her hands, rubbing uselessly at her treacherous eyes.

She wasn’t prepared for the gentle touch to her shoulder. She lurched away, unable to stop the gasp of pain that slipped from her lips as the violent movement tugged at her sensitive abdomen.

“Shit. Sorry, Simmons.” A voice said immediately. A familiar, English voice. She took a deep breath, lowering her shaking hands from her head, and turned to look at him. He was standing half a metre from her, holding his hands out in surrender. He had clearly leapt back, surprised by her reaction to his touch. She felt a twinge of guilt. He was looking at her closely, none of his usual playfulness in his face. Instead he looked worried, his brow furrowed and his eyes wide as he waited for her to respond.

“Hunter.” She croaked, shuffling, awkwardly, bringing a hand up to wipe away any tears.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted… are you alright, Simmons?” He asked gruffly. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, unable to pull together the energy to lie. He lurched forwards without thinking, then froze once more as he realised she might not appreciate the contact. She gave him a weak smile, and he took it as permission, sliding down the wall beside her and wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into him gratefully.

“Just tired.” She said with a weak laugh. He chuckled softly.

“It sucks, doesn’t it?” He murmured softly. She nodded, her chin resting against his chest. His hands ran absentmindedly through her hair, soothing her. He was, she supposed, feeling the same way about Bobbi, only he was clearly far more responsible about keeping his emotions in check.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why it upset me so much. It just sort of hit me, all at once.” She apologised.

“Don’t apologise. I personally think this was a dick move from Coulson. You and Fitz are owed a lifetime of leave, the way I see it, after everything you've done for him and everything you two've been through. He had no right to order Fitz back to work so soon.” Hunter said, and Jemma could hear the anger in his voice. Furthermore, she agreed. Although that was probably a little selfish on her part: Coulson needed Fitz, and she could tell that he was truly apologetic about splitting them up again. She knew it was inevitable, really, she just wished it hadn’t happened quite so soon.

“Mmm.” She murmured, unable to muster the energy to defend Coulson. She was a little pissed, too. Whilst she understood his actions, she wasn’t willing to agree with them just yet.

“It’s not very comfortable here, Simmons. You could have picked a nice comfy sofa to sit on, but no, had to be the filthy concrete floor of the hangar.” He rebuked her, teasingly. She managed a small chuckle. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. You can make me some of that nice proper tea you’ve been hoarding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the abrupt ending.
> 
> Coming up: will everything go to plan on the mission? Also feat. Hunter-Jemma friendship because there was never enough of them together.


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma was exhausted.

She was sitting on the sofa in the common room, Hunter at her side as they watch TV together. She wasn’t even sure what was on, she was so focused on just keeping her eyes open. It was the first day she’d gone without medication at all, and whilst she was proud of herself, the constant ache in her side was draining her energy.

She’d spent the rest of the morning in the lab, pottering gently, sitting firmly on the chair that Hunter had brought for her. At lunch he’d come and collected her, forcing her away from the comforting space, ignoring her protests, and they’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the common room, filing the time with gentle conversation and reading quietly.

Now it was nearly nine pm, and as desperate as she was to crawl to her room, she wasn’t sure she could trust her aching limbs to get her there safely. As if he’d read her mind, Hunter yawned loudly and looked at her.

“Just let me know when you want to go to bed, Simmons. I promised Fitz I’d take keep an eye on you, and let no one say I’m not a gentleman who walks a lady to their door at the end of a date.” He winked at her, chuckling to himself when she gave a groan at his terrible sense of humour.

“Don’t let Fitz hear you say that.” She told him sharply, although the smile she gave him ruined the effect.

“Oh please, like I couldn’t take Fitz.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure that’s a challenge you would win, Hunter. He may not have your brawn, but he had a fearsome reputation at the academy when it came to revenge. No one messed with Fitz.” She deadpanned.

Hunter chuckled as he stood. “Well then, I’ll have to watch my back. Come on, let’s go.” He told her as she let out another yawn. “You should have told me sooner. There's no need to stay awake on my account.” He reprimanded.

She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s still early, Hunter. I didn’t want to bother you.” She admitted as she took hold of his outstretched arm, letting him take her weight as she pulled herself into standing. The effort was almost too much, she realised to her alarm, and for a few seconds the world spun in and out of focus. Hunter grabbed onto her elbows, holding her steady, and when her head adjusted she gave him a weak smile of gratitude.

“You alright?” He asked his words laced with concern.

“Just stood up too fast.” She assured him, but she let him wrap an arm around her waist as he walked her back to her door.

When they reached her room she let go of him, leaning on the door instead. She was about to wish him good night when he spoke.

“Hey, Simmons.”

“Yeah?” She asked, confused. Hunter’s face was uncharacteristically sincere.

“Listen, if you need anything, any time, just let me know, okay? I meant what I said, I promised Fitz I’d make sure you were alright. So, if you wake up at three in the morning with a hankering for some chocolate, call me and I will bring it to you on a silver platter.” He told her seriously. She gave him a small nod, a little taken aback at the earnest expression on his face.

“Thank you, Hunter.” She said gently, and then she slipped into her room.

The bed was still unmade from this morning. Fitz must have forgotten again, his pyjama bottoms lying in a heap beside the bed too. She sighed. She had some learning to do if he wanted to keep sharing her room. Quickly pulling on her own pyjamas she crawled into the bed, too tired to even brush her teeth. The bed felt strangely empty without Fitz. She’d tried to put him out of her mind, resolutely refusing to ask Hunter if he’d heard from them. She knew they were unlikely to radio in before tomorrow morning, but she’d been holding out for something anyway. Still, no news was good news, she told herself firmly, as she drifted off to sleep.

_She was back on the plane, cocooned in her old lab, working hard at the latest project. Fitz was there, just outside the lab, sitting with his back pressed to the sealed doors._

_Wait._

_Sealed doors? That was odd. Why wasn’t he there, beside her?_

_“Fitz.” She called softly, but he ignored her. Huffing in frustration she walked up to the doors, pulling out her lanyard and scanning the exit panel._ _It flashed red._ _She frowned, that was odd._

_"Fitz?” She said again, louder this time. Now that she was closer she could see him better. His head was hunched over, as if he was asleep. She sighed. Classic Fitz, able to sleep anywhere and at the most inappropriate times. Well, she decided, he’d have to continue his nap later, after he let her out of their lab._

_“_ _FITZ.” She said sharply, tapping on the glass. Still no response._

_Her heart fluttered a little. Something felt wrong. Turning to the desk she picked up her earpiece and put it in. “Coulson, May? Can anyone hear me?” She asked quickly, trying not to panic. “I can’t wake Fitz and I’m locked in the lab.” She held her breath, waiting for a response._

_Finally the comms crackled to life. “Simmons.” Her blood ran cold, his voice chilling her soul._

_“No.” She moaned, fear flooding her veins._

_She saw something move in the corner of her eye, out by where Fitz was sitting._

_“I’m coming. Don’t panic.” He told her calmly, sickeningly. The shadows moved again, and this time he emerged, his familiar form coming to a stop just outside the doors, just beside Fitz. He squatted down, resting on his haunches and reached out with a pale hand for Fitz._

_“NO.” She croaked, finally tearing herself from her frozen stance and flying across the lab, back to the doors. “Leave him.” She begged, pressing her own hands helplessly against the glass behind Fitz, as if she could reach through it and pull him back, take him into the safety of the locked room._

_“Oh, Simmons. It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” He said leeringly as he placed a hand under Fitz chin and pushed his head back up from his chest. It hit the glass with a sickening thunk._

_“Don’t hurt him.” She croaked, hardly able to breathe. His laugh made her want to throw up._

_“He’s dead. Jemma.” Hive cackled._

_Someone was screaming._

_She stared at Fitz. Waited for him to move. He didn’t move._

_There was a hole in the back of his head. She hadn’t seen it before._

_His hair was matted with blood._

_Someone was screaming._

_She was screaming._

_Hive’s arms were around her. She could feel them. They were squeezing her tight, yelling at her, his awful laugh echoing round and round her lab. He’d gotten through the glass somehow, and now he was squeezing the life out of her, his inhuman strength sucking away her own._

_Fitz was dead._

_She crumpled. His grip tightened. She didn’t care._

She was in her room. She was in her bed. Or rather, she was on it, sitting upright, someone wrapped firmly around her, screaming in her ear.

No. Wait. She was the one screaming.

The noise stopped suddenly as she snapped her mouth shut.

Someone was talking, whispering into her ear as they kept a tight grip around her heaving chest. She was gasping for air, breathing deep as she clutched at the hands that held her close. The hushed whispers began to untangle themselves, twisting into words that slid into her shaking head.

“Jemma. It’s okay. It’s not real. You’re safe. He’s alive. Breathe with me, just breathe, just relax.” The voice was calm, controlled, steady. It was soothing, and she grasped onto the muted words, hardly listening as she used the constant stream to pull herself back together. Finally her chest loosened.

“Jemma?” The voice said again, questioning this time. “Can you hear me Jemma?”

“Yes.” She croaked, sinking into Hunter’s chest. “Yes.” She felt him release a deep breath.

“How are you feeling?” He asked gently. She shook her head, unable to answer. How could she answer that? She felt shattered, like she’d been dropped from a great height and been put back together with cheap tape, already unravelling at the ends. Her head ached and her throat felt raw. Pain ran rampant through her abdomen: her movements had clearly been anything but gentle in the moments before she woke.

“What time is it?” She whispered finally.

“Four in the morning.” He told her. “What can I do?” He asked, his words tinged with anxiety.

“I… I don’t…” She said shakily, tears welling in her eyes. His grip around her loosened and she felt him shift from behind her, moving around the bed so that he faced her instead.

“It’s okay, Jemma.” He told her softly, taking her hands in his as he crouched down, his face close to hers. “You want to talk, I’m here. You want to wait, I’ll wait. The only thing I’m not about to do is leave.” He said gently.

“You’re taking your duties very seriously.” She said shakily. He laughed quietly.

“I’ll want a rave review, be warned.” He replied, and she smiled weakly. “Listen, Jemma. We can do anything you want, okay? We can try and call Fitz if you’d like?” He said. Her heart jumped. Fitz. What she wouldn’t give to have him beside her right now. She missed him so much it hurt, worse than the ache that still radiated through her stomach. Hunter must have seen the longing on her face, because he stood up quickly, smiling. “Okay. We’ll phone him. Just give me a minute, I’ll see if he can talk right now, okay?” She nodded softly, and Hunter quickly walked out to the corridor.

She blinked slowly, trying to stop herself from trembling as she reached over and clicked on the bedside light, casting the room in a soft glow. The shadows moved further away. She slid back until her back pressed against the headboard, pulling her blanket around her shoulders and listening carefully to Hunter in the corridor. He’d clearly gotten through to someone, and now she listened to his one sided conversation.

“Hey mate, sorry to wake you…. Everything’s fine, she’s just a bit shaken up…. Nightmare I think. She wouldn’t tell me… I’ll take the phone now.” The door cracked open and Hunter returned, holding out the phone with a smile on his face. “Here you go Jemma. I’ll be outside when you are done, okay?” She nodded gratefully to him before taking the phone.

“Jemma?” Fitz’s familiar voice said, and for a second she was so relieved she couldn’t speak. “Jemma, can you hear me?” He said, his voice tight with worry. Instantly she felt a stab of guilt that she had woken him, but the relief overpowered it quickly.

“Fitz.” She croaked. “Sorry to wake you.”

_“Don’t be silly Jemma, I’m glad Hunter called. I wasn’t asleep anyway.”_

“Why not?” She asked him, willing him to talk and distract her from the image that still haunted her: Fitz, his eyes lifeless and hair matted with blood.

 _“The mission’s pretty time sensitive. I needed to make sure all the equipment was ready to go and time just ran away with me a bit.”_ He told her. _“Are you okay?”_ He asked softly.

“Yes.” She murmured. “Just a dream. It’s not real, right?”

 _“Right.”_ He said firmly. _“Want to talk about it?”_ He asked.

“You were dead.” She croaked, unable to stop a small sob bubbling out. “Hive… he…” She broke off, unable to vocalise the image that haunted her.

 _“Well that’s not true, Jem. I’m talking to you right now. Hive is the only one that’s dead.”_ He told her firmly. _“I’m sorry I’m not there.”_ He said softly.

She took a shaky breath. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. Being apart from you.” She told him honestly. She didn’t want to put the phone down ever, not now that he was on the other end of it. The space between them irrelevant as long as the connection remained, existing in their own private heterotopia, where he was with her despite the distance. “This is good, though Fitz. This is helping.” She told him softly. She knew that he was smiling.

They carried on chatting, the topic meandering aimlessly, irrelevant. The real conversation was the one that passed in the breathy silences, the gentle tones. The real conversation didn’t need words. Finally she heard regret in Fitz’s tone, and knew that their time was up. As Fitz said goodbye, the dial tone beeping with a sinking finality, Jemma finally rose from the bed.

Upon opening the door she found Hunter sprawled in the corridor, his mouth wide open and gentle snores reverberating around the space. She smiled at the sight as she tiptoed past him, making her way to the kitchen. It was almost six in the morning now, and the base would come alive soon, but for now it was hers. A quiet, familiar home in which she could relax.

She heard him enter the kitchen, his grumbling reaching her ears long before he even opened the door, and she kept her back to him as she stirred the pot on the stove.

“You could have woken me Simmons, that floor is not made for sleeping: I’m stiff in places I didn’t even know ex…” He broke off and she heard him sniff the air. “Oh my God. Bacon.” He whispered reverently. “All is forgiven.”

She laughed. “Who says it’s for you, Hunter?” She teased, turning around as she turned off the heat on the scrambled eggs and opened a cupboard to pull out some plates. “I know Fitz left you instructions for me, but Bobbi left me some for you too: ‘Strict diet of porridge’ were her exact words, I believe.”

Hunter growled warningly. “Don’t tease me now, Jemma. You do not want to poke the bear.” She slid a generous helping of bacon and eggs onto a plate and slid it towards him. He speared a rasher with his fork and shoved it into his mouth, moaning loudly. “Oh my god. Fitz has got competition. The last time Bobbi made me bacon it was all wrong, with that streaky American stuff and no proper meat on it, cooked within an inch of it’s life and so crunchy I cut my lips on it.” He praised.

Jemma took a rather more dainty mouthful. She had to agree with Hunter. She’d missed English bacon. “Well, you’ll have to thank Fitz. I swiped it from his secret stash.”

“How was Fitz?” He asked her softly. She shrugged.

“He was good.” She smiled. “Thank you, Hunter. For calling him. I… I really needed that.” She added gently. Hunter looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jemma. It wasn’t anything. You would do exactly the same.”

“You hardly slept, Hunter. I know how much you value your sleep.”

“Well, any excuse for a nap.” He said seriously. She gave him a grateful smile, but she couldn’t shake the guilt that hovered in the pit of her stomach. She was sick of being a burden on her friends, on Fitz. A small part of her regretted that she had called him. He did so much for her and she did nothing but ask for more.

“Back to the lab today?” Hunter asked, pulling her from her thoughts. She nodded.

“Well, I’m going to the gym, I’ll check in on you at lunch, okay? Come find me if you need anything.” He told her as he piled their dishes into the sink. “Thanks for breakfast.”

…………………

She settled down onto the chair that Hunter had brought for her yesterday, noting with some satisfaction that her abdomen was significantly less painful. Either they were finally starting to heal or she’d become accustomed to the dull ache. With any luck, she’d be able to take advantage of the reduced distraction and finally get on top of the mounting paperwork that Fitz had strictly prohibited her from doing until she was recovered. 

The day progressed seamlessly, the only distraction being Hunter bringing her a sandwich for lunch. The pile in front of her was rapidly decreasing, and she was just about to begin the last report when Hunter returned.

“Jemma. Dinnertime.” His voice snapped her from her work, and she looked at the clock surprised. Hours had passed and she’d hardly noticed. A smart comment on the tip of her tongue, she stood to face Hunter. The words died before they left her mouth and the lead balloon plummeted back into her stomach when she saw his face.

Something wasn’t right. Hunter’s smile was too bright, his voice forcibly upbeat. She looked at him closely and he didn’t meet her eyes.

“Come on. I’m heating up one of Mack's casseroles, it’s in the oven. Let's get it before it's ruined.” He said, turning quickly before she had time to speak.

“Hunter. Wait.” She called after him. Her voice was awkwardly high, the words crashing into one another in their haste. He carried on walking and she forced herself to up the pace, ignoring the painful twinge in her abdomen. “Hunter. Please.” She said quietly as she drew level with him. She willed him to turn and look at her, her heart pounding with anticipation. What had happened? Was it Fitz? It must be... but if it was... if something had happened... she refused to let her mind finish that sentence. 

“I left the food on the stove Simmons, don’t want to be responsible for burning down the base.” He said, his voice still tight with forced optimism. She took a deep breath, wincing at the strain it placed on her slowly healing body and pressing a hand against her side in an effort to alleviate the ache. He must have seen the movement in his peripheral vision, because suddenly he whirled around, stopping in his tracks and finally looking at her, concern and annoyance plastered across his face. “Are you alright?”

She had stopped too, and now that they were standing in the corridor, her heart pounding with worry, her head spinning as she tried to calculate all the reasons that Hunter may be lying to her, and more than anything, the pain in her abdomen flaring up like it hadn’t in days. She couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, her shallow inhalations bringing no relief to the burn that was growing in her lungs as she gasped for air. She reached for the wall as her vision turned blurry, searching for the support.

She found Hunter’s arms instead, taking her reaching hands and holding them tight.

He was telling her to breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Jemma, please, with me, feel my breaths okay?” She heard him say. What? She didn’t understand. Then he let go and she was drifting again, the blurriness in her eyes rapidly being replaced by black fog.

Her wheezy breaths were punctuated with whimpers.

And then suddenly she felt him again, his chest pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her, constricting her even more as she fought against his hold.

“No. Jemma.” He told her firmly. “Feel my breaths.” She knew what he meant now, could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, how calm it was compared to her own frantic gasps. “Breathe with me.” He whispered, and desperately she tried, her hand finding his in the fog and clutching it tight.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Breathe.

Finally the dark cloud across her vision passed.

She was on the floor, her knees pressed painfully into the concrete. When had that happened?

Her throat burned from the effort of breathing, her chest ached. Hunter unwrapped his arms, sliding around to face her and crouching, his face close to hers.

“Okay?” He asked. She looked at him, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second before his slid across to stare at her ear instead. The weight in the pit of her stomach shifted. He was still hiding something.  
  
“What happened?” She croaked, leaning backwards against the wall and un-tucking her legs from under her, rubbing her painful knees.

“Panic attack, I think - ” Hunter began. She groaned in frustration and he stopped abruptly.

“No. Hunter. What happened?” She asked again, moving her head so that he was forced to look into her eyes. She felt awful and she was sure she looked it too. Her whole body was rebelling against her: she wasn’t sure she could even manage the last few metres to the kitchen, but right now she didn’t care. Right now all she wanted to know was Hunter’s secret, the thing that had forced him to paint his grumpy face with an artificial smile. “Please.” She whispered, and Hunter sighed deeply.

“Lets go to the kitchen first. Sit somewhere comfier.” He muttered, sliding two string hands beneath her elbows and pulling her to her feet as easily as if she was made from paper. She let him guide her to the sofa beside the table, lowering her gently onto the soft material. Finally comfortable, her aches fading slightly as her mind dwelled on far more pressing topics, she asked again as he crossed the room to turn on the kettle.

“What happened?”

This time when he turned his face was honest. She knew. She knew from the way his lips twisted awkwardly and his brow furrowed forwards, his eyes finally meeting hers and holding the stare. She knew.

“Fitz is missing.”


End file.
